Tears Do Not Suit You
by Firesword
Summary: Fluffiness. Slash. HPDM. Oneshot. OOC. Tears do not suit your beautiful face at all.


**Fandom: **Harry Potter  
**Fic Title: **Tears Do Not Suit You  
**Author: **Firesword  
**Disclaimers: **Harry Potter and its characters belong to JK Rowling and so on. I just own the muse.  
**Summary: **Fluffiness. HP/DM. _"Tears do not suit your beautiful face at all."_**  
Warnings: **Slash. HP/DM. OOC. Intended Post-HBP. One-shot.  
**Rating: **'T'  
**Author's Notes: **Bunny had come to me when I was playing the keyboard on the 13th of December 2005. Completed this yesterday ... just before midnight.

**TEARS DO NOT SUIT YOU**

By Firesword

He hated the way those gray eyes stared at him; blank, dead, desolate ... and worst of all, despair. He cursed silently and stalked off, but he did not bother to slam the door shut. He bumped into a greasy-haired wizard as he stormed off, but he did not bother apologizing. He certainly did not care about the way Severus' lips curled with suppressed fury.

"Harry?" Hermione called him tentatively when he sat down on a kitchen stool heavily. Only her eyes were showing, as the rest of her face was covered by a thick spell book.

"What?" he snapped.

"Will you please calm down?" she suggested in a meek tone.

"How in Merlin's name am I supposed to do that?" Harry glared at her.

"You could at least try not getting angry at every hour." She stared at him – that hard, cold stare whenever she wanted to get something through to his head.

He looked away and glared instead at the silverware on the kitchen cabinet. After several minutes however, he was back on his feet and was on his way to the room that Draco Malfoy was using.

Severus was still standing guard at the doorway, and he was looking quite worried.

"Go and stalk the library or something," Harry barked at the older wizard. "I want to be alone with him."

"You..." Severus muttered some oaths before storming away, to the library as Harry had suggested.

An eyebrow arched elegantly as he watched Severus' back. "I have actually gotten away with it," he mused. Then he entered his bedroom – well, it _had_ been his bedroom, until he had inadvertently rescued Draco and Severus three months ago.

He closed the door behind him quietly and then moved forward to sit down on the rug. He studied Draco, who sat on the bed, behaving very much like a zombie. The silver-haired wizard was just staring into space and Harry did not like how lifeless he was appearing. His eyes then shifted to take note of the pillows scattered all over the bed.

It seemed that the only time Draco would use them would be when Harry was with him, sleeping with him.

"That is so bloody funny." He snorted to himself. "I am your sandman."

Draco could only sleep if Harry was sleeping too, and only if they were holding hands.

That was something he no longer cared about, although it had made him feel weird in the beginning. He was no longer as disturbed about the fact that he had become quite protective of the white-furred ferret. One thing he did care about was Draco's silence.

"I cannot help you if you won't talk to me, Draco," he said softly. "I wish you would – I'm tired of getting angry and frustrated at you because you wouldn't." He sighed and lay back on the rug. He stared up at the red ceiling and sighed again. "It's not your fault for not knowing that what Voldemort had promised you had been all lies. It's not your fault that your mother..." Harry stopped before he could mention that Draco's mother had been turned into an Inferi. "You still have your father, although his presence here is not really welcomed by the others. I know I don't," he said that somewhat ruefully.

Silence filled the bedroom and Harry broke it with an explosive sigh. Frustrated, he took off his glasses and carelessly put it above his head. He shut his eyes and tried to relax. He should not be angry with this. The trauma that Draco was suffering was inevitable.

"Talk to me," he muttered. "It's been bloody four months…."

Suddenly, there was a loud wail, and Harry was caught off-guard when something had landed on him heavily.

He let out a loud groan and whimpered as he tried to gather his wits. What had happened? What was on him?

"It's my fault! I should have … should have let Severus help me! It's my fault! Dumbledore's dead! Mother's dead! My fault! My fault! I was stupid! I should have listened! It's my fault! Severus..."

Harry was truly bewildered and overwhelmed by the sudden outburst. It was minutes before he could get his limbs to work, to wrap around the quivering body above him. Dazedly, he rubbed Draco's back, and absently took note that it was warm to the touch. It was a welcome sign – Draco was still alive.

Draco was still babbling incoherently – his words were slurred. It did not help that his voice was rough with unaccustomed use, and he was still sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey ... shhhhhh … It's all right, Draco." Somehow, he managed to sit up. He started rocking the other wizard back and forth, all the while murmuring comforting words. "It is not your fault. I don't blame you. Don't cry, Draco."

The Slytherin's wails grew louder and the sobs worsened. Harry paled, because Draco's fingers were digging sharply into his shoulders.

"Draco – Draco!" Harry pulled away briefly and caught hold of Draco's chin. He forced the Slytherin to look at him, to look into his eyes. "Don't cry," he ordered firmly.

Draco seemed to freeze and Harry wondered if he was caught by the gaze.

"Tears do not suit you."

Gray eyes blinked.

"I tried to kill you," Draco whispered.

"I know. But did you really try to?" Harry asked gently. "Did you put your heart into it?"

Slender arms around his neck started to shake violently. He smiled gently, and carefully wiped the trailing tears from the aquiline face with utmost care and tenderness.

"Tears do not suit your beautiful face at all."

Draco's eyes widened and Harry pulled back, so that he could stare into it. He smiled, relieved to see brilliance in them. It was good to see shock in eyes that had seemed so distant for the past few weeks.

Tentatively, Harry leaned forward and paused with his lips nearly touching Draco's cheek. Then, using all his courage, he closed the distance, and planted a kiss on a very sharp cheekbone.

Pale fingers automatically came up to touch the spot.

"Give me your left arm. I want to show you something."

The silver-haired wizard raised his arm somewhat uncertainly and Harry rolled the sleeve to expose the fair forearm.

"Look," Harry said softly and he watched the pair of gray eyes drop to look at the arm. He smiled again, when Draco gasped.

"Where's the ... what happened? How did – Why didn't I–"

"Well, you weren't really ... here," Harry interrupted.

"But..." Draco stared at his forearm for several more seconds and then he gazed into Harry's eyes. "How?"

Harry did not answer immediately. He pulled Draco so that the Slytherin sat more comfortably on his lap and he pressed his cheek against the side of Draco's face.

"A phoenix's tears could not heal it, or break it," Harry murmured. "To tell you the truth, Draco–"

"Draco? You're..."

The raven-haired teenager sighed. "Yes, Draco, I'm calling you by name. I've been doing so for ... never mind that. To tell you the truth, I was frustrated. I was so frustrated that I had cried, and I happened to cry on your arm." He made a face. "I'd felt so silly then, for crying on you. Anyway, I was washing you the next day, and it was then I'd noticed the Dark Mark was gone."

"How can that be possible? Severus had tried..."

"I love you."

Draco's expression grew slack. "What?"

"I love you," Harry said simply. "There's no point in denying that now. I love you."

"That's not ... No. You're lying."

"No, I'm not. I care for you. To care for something, means to love it, yes?"

"No."

"But I don't love you the way I love Ron."

"What?"

"I love you." Harry tilted his head to one side. "Do you mind it so much?"

Draco stared at him again in disbelieve, but he slowly shook his head and Harry smiled at his response.

"Hold on to me," he said softly and carefully lifted Draco up. "Let's sleep. I'm quite exhausted after you'd jumped on me..."

"I didn't... jump on you," Draco murmured.

"Perhaps jumping is the wrong word. You'd thrown yourself at me." He grinned when Draco looked balefully at him. He gently laid the Slytherin on the bed and then settled beside him. He waved his hand at the window and drapes moved to screen it. He looked at the candles at one end of the bedroom and one by one, they wavered and went out.

He turned to his side and looked at Draco with a smile on his lips. He did not really need his glasses at close range, and at that moment, he did not really care if he needed it. He waited until he was certain that Draco was relaxed before moving closer, as he always had. He sighed, with more contentment now, as he held the other wizard close.

"Harry?"

"Hmmmm?" He rubbed his cheek dreamily against Draco's hair.

"Am I ... beautiful?" Draco asked in a small voice.

"You aren't when you're crying," Harry answered in an honest tone. Then he laughed. "You need to eat a little more, be in the sunshine more often, smile I suppose, and you'll be. Beautiful."

Draco hesitantly rested his hand on Harry's hip, and a distant part of the Gryffindor decided that it felt really good.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to love you back?"

Harry chuckled softly. "We'll see, Draco. I'm not putting my hopes up. We'll let time decide if that should happen. For now, though..." He lowered his face and daringly kissed Draco's lips. "... I will love you."

**THE END**


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